


A Bird, a Spy, and a Supersoldier Walk Into a Bar

by flightyrock



Series: Happy Steve Bingo 2018 [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol, Bars and Pubs, Beer, Billy Joel - Freeform, Drunk characters, Gen, Happy Steve Bingo, Journey, Karaoke, Language, M/M, Steve Angst, Swearing, feel free to let me know if i miss tags, hangovers, i'm looking at you steve, in case that wasn't clear, terrible friends (but not really)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 15:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16477757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightyrock/pseuds/flightyrock
Summary: "'Care-a-oak?''Karaoke.  It’s…well, you’ll see soon enough.'”The one where Nat and Sam drag Steve's angsty ass out for a night on the town.  Featuring terrible renditions of songs Steve's never heard before.Takes place sometime after CATWS during the search for Bucky.





	A Bird, a Spy, and a Supersoldier Walk Into a Bar

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still not completely happy with how this reads, but I REFUSE to go the entire month without finishing even a single prompt. So here it is. On the last day of the month. *Shrugs* Enjoy!
> 
> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own. Characters belong to Marvel. Songs belong to their respective artists, check the list in the end notes.
> 
> Written for the space "Karaoke" for Happy Steve Bingo.

“Care-a-oak?”

Steve squinted at the neon sign spelling out an unfamiliar word outside of the bar Sam and Nat had dragged him to, insisting that Steve needed a break.

 

“I _am_ taking a break!” Steve had argued, gesturing to the files he had spread out on the full mattress he shared with Sam in their motel room.  The search for Bucky had led them back to the States, and they had set up shop in a motel in Kentucky.  “I’m sitting down and everything.”

Sam shot him a Look, the don’t-give-me-none-of-that-bullshit look that was unsettlingly close to the look Sister Margaret would give him when she knew he was lying before getting out the ruler.  Sam pointed at him accusingly and stomped over.  “No, you’re wallowing.  There’s a difference.” 

He softened a bit.  “Your friend wouldn’t want you making yourself sick over him, and as the friend who’s here now, it’s my solemn duty to pull that patriotic head of yours out of your ass.” Then he straightened up and poked Steve square in the chest for emphasis.  “ _Up_.  Put on your big boy pants: we’re going out.”

 

And that was how Steve found himself in front of one Rusty Horseshoe on a Wednesday, ears burning as Nat snorted at his sad pronunciation attempt.

Sam, at least, had the grace not to laugh.  Because _he_ was a _good_ friend.  “Karaoke.  It’s…well, you’ll see soon enough.”

~

Steve couldn’t say he agreed with Sam; he mostly heard. 

Because, boy, was it _loud._

A throbbing bassline ricocheted off the walls of the tiny bar, effectively drowning out all other sound.  It was coming from a raised platform in the back where two women in short skirts huddled around a microphone.  They were laughing, wrestling the mic back and forth.  It sounded awful.  It looked like they were having an awful lot of fun.

Something touched his shoulder, jerking him out of his thoughts.  He whipped around, coming face to face with Sam, whose lips were moving.

“What?” Steve yelled.

Sam squeezed his shoulder, and Steve crouched down a bit obligingly.  The man’s breath tickled the sensitive hair inside his ear.  “Should we get a table?”

But Nat was already across the room, waving at them impatiently from a table near the front of the house.  “Less feedback closer to the stage,” she explained.  Steve could still barely hear her, but he supposed it was an improvement.

They ordered greasy burgers and crazy appetizers, laughed and chatted between musical numbers, and had _way_ too much of the local craft beer.  Even though Steve drank it mainly for the taste, he found himself relaxing alongside Nat and Sam, who were loose and rapidly growing giggly.

The next song started; a piano and a harmonica wailing, and the whole bar erupted into an approving roar, along with Sam.

Steve jumped in alarm.  “Sam, what—“

“’Piano Man’, Steve!” Sam shook his shoulder excitedly.  “Billy Joel, man.  Pay attention; this is a classic!”  Even Nat looked excited.

Soon the whole bar was shouting along with the group on stage, who had their arms around each other, and were swaying horribly offbeat.

Caught completely off guard, Steve just sat there in shocked silence until Sam and Nat hauled him to his feet and joined a line of people with their arms around each other.  Before he knew it, Steve was swaying along, too.

It was nearly impossible to catch the words in the verses in the mayhem, but Steve soon found himself singing along to the chorus and shouting with Sam and Nat and the rest, a huge grin on his face, despite the melancholy nature of the song.

He could barely hear the last strains of the harmonica fade away over the wild applause, cheering, and whistling that filled the small space.

As they made their way back to the table, Steve had his back slapped a couple of times, and he was hit with a wave of nostalgia.  Going to bars with the Howlies in Europe, singing along as the bar erupted into impromptu ditties after Steve drank everyone under the table.  Bucky always did have a wonderful voice. 

_Bucky_.  Steve felt his face fall.  He would have loved this.  Would have gotten a kick out of the fact that bars actually organized sing-alongs in the future.

A flick on the ear had him turning to glare at Nat.  “Wallowing,” she said, and shoved the song list at him.  “Here.  Pick something.”

“Wait what?”  Steve’s eyes widened in alarm and realization.  “No. No way.”

“C’mon, Steve,” Sam wheedled.  “Just one song, we’ll go up with you.  It will be fun.”  He leaned closer.  “Plus, I’ll get off your back for a whole day.”

“Speak for yourself, bird boy.  _Someone_ has to record this,” Natasha grinned.

Steve glared at them both resentfully, but he couldn’t let Sam’s offer go to waste; he knew the guy meant well, but he had been _relentless_ these past couple of weeks. So Steve looked down at the list in despair.  He didn’t recognize any of these songs. 

When he said as much to Sam, his friend asked, “Should I pick for you?”

Steve nodded his reluctant consent, and Nat leaned over Sam’s shoulders.  They snickered, saying things like “But this song is so _Steve_ ” and “Do you _want_ us to get laughed out of the bar?!” and Steve regretted all the life decisions that had led him to karaoke night in a dive bar.

Finally they seemed to agree, and Nat walked over to the coordinator to get them a place on the list.  Sam went back to his beer, but Steve watched Nat bat her eyes and squeeze the bearded guy’s bicep, and he could have sworn he saw her slip him a couple bills.

“What was that all about?” he asked, when she was settled back at the table again. 

Sam perked up at the question.  “What? What did I miss?”

Nat rolled her eyes.  “Steve, that list is over two pages long.  Do you _want_ to be here all night?”

Steve just returned to his beer, and Nat snorted.  “We’re up after the next two.  You’re welcome.”

It was Steve’s turn to roll his eyes.  “Thanks, Nat.”

 

Steve tried to keep up with the conversation (some debate about what counted as pants??), but it was hard to concentrate when the knot of nerves in his stomach was tightening with every minute.  It was completely ridiculous; he’d fought aliens and robots and monsters wearing human skin, but it was _singing_ that made him shake in his boots?  He thought he was over this after his early days in the USO circuit, but he supposes he didn’t exactly _sing_ for that.  The girls did most of that, and he just stood there reading the notecards that were taped to the inside of his prop shield.

He watches a large group of women sing about having fun, and some guy yell about lobsters, and then, too soon, it was their turn to get on stage.  Nat just smirked, kicked back, and took out her phone.  Sam patted him on the back, told him, “Remember, it’s just for fun,” and then Steve was looking out over the bar, and at a laptop set up with the lyrics at eye level.

Sam nudged him.  “Don’t worry, I’ll start.”  A strong piano line started playing from the speakers, and the whole bar erupted into cheers.  Steve jumped, Sam winked at him, and started to sing along with the words as they turned pink:

                        _Just a small town girl, livin’ in a lonely world_

_She took the midnight train goin’ anywhere._

Sam nudged him again, and Steve realized it was his turn to sing.

                        _Just a city boy, born and raised in South Detroit_

_He took the midnight train goin’ anywhere._

Steve figured out pretty quickly that it didn’t matter that he didn’t know how the song was supposed to sound; the entire bar was standing and singing along, just like they had during that piano song earlier.  He found himself trying not to laugh at their incredible enthusiasm.

Sam did laugh, and nudged Steve to get his attention as the next verse was about to start.  Steve raised an inquisitive eyebrow.  “Together for the rest!” Sam directed.

“Right!” Steve grinned, and they dived right in.  It was easier to sing with someone else, and the rest of his nerves all but evaporated when the crowd stumbled over the words to the next part:

                        _A singer in a smoky room_

_A smell of wine and cheap perfume._

_For a smile they can share the night_

_It goes on and on and on and on!_

Steve couldn’t help but be reminded of Bucky, a Lucky hanging out the side of his mouth at the bar or dance hall.  But the energy in the room was so wild, he didn’t have time to dwell on it, before everyone joined in strong again, shouting along to the chorus:

                        _Strangers waitin’ up and down the boulevard_

_Their shadows searching in the night._

_Streetlights, people, livin’ just to find emotion_

_Hidin’ somewhere in the night._

Sam broke into some crazy dance moves during the musical break, and the crowd roared its approval.  Then he gestured for Steve to join him, and Steve tried to convey that, no, he’d rather not make a fool of himself that way, thank you, but the crowd just chanted: “Dance!  Dance!  Dance!” So Steve found himself bobbing his head and shoulders awkwardly for a few beats until he was saved by the next verse.

Sam, the bastard, kept waggling his eyebrows, trying to get Steve to crack up.  It was working, so Steve didn’t get a whole lot of singing done this time around.  No one seemed to care, just yelled along when they knew the words. 

If Steve thought the energy in the room was crazy before, when they finally hit a certain part in the end, people lost their damn minds, jumping up and down, and pumping their firsts into the air:

                        _Don’t stop believin’!  Hold on to that feelin’!_

_Street lights!  People!_

That high note was downright painful.  Sam screeched out a sad approximation, but Steve couldn’t even muster enough air to try, he too busy laughing.

They repeated that part for awhile, until it finally faded away, to raucous cheers.  He waved out at the crowd, and joined Sam for a bow.

When Steve finally stepped off the stage behind Sam, it was with shaking hands and a smile that wouldn’t quit, his cheek muscles sore from the strain.

Natasha’s grin looked just about as wide when Steve finally got back to the table, after being held up by what felt like every patron in the bar wanting to slap him on the back or shake his hand. 

“Looks like you boys had fun.  And so will I.” Her grin morphed into something downright evil, and she waggled the phone under his nose.  “What do you think, Steve?  Should we set this as Loverboy’s alarm tomorrow?” she smirked, nodding at the bar where Steve lost Sam, flirting it up with a cute brunette.  

Steve laughed gleefully.  “Can’t wait.”

~

The next morning, Sam was rudely awaken, far, _far_ too early by a blinding light, a killer headache, and someone wailing _Journey_ right next to his ear.

He screamed, and flopped onto the floor, moaning.  “What the hell?”

The assholes that masqueraded as his friends were howling; Steve by a set of open blinds, and Nat holding a phone playing a video that looked way too familiar.

“Oh my _God,_ ” Sam moaned.  “I didn’t.”

“You didn’t” Steve agreed.  “ _We_ did.  It was Nat’s idea, but you picked the song.”

“Of fucking course it was,” Sam grumbled.  He rubbed his eyes, and squinted at Steve.  “Did you have fun, at least?”

Steve’s smirk softened into the closest thing to a genuine smile Sam had seen since Steve’s best friend came back from the dead.

“Yeah, I think I did.  Thank you.  Both of you.”

Sam and Nat just looked at each other.  He raised an eyebrow at Steve.  “Does this mean you won’t pitch a fit next time I tell you to take a break?”

Steve snorted, and threw a pillow at his face, where he still was sitting on the ground.  “Hell, no.”

Sam would never, _ever_ , tell Steve this, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics to “Don’t Stop Believin’” are property of Journey, most of the characters are property of Marvel
> 
> For reference, the song Nat and Sam thought would be hilarious for Steve to sing but dropped for reasons was “Take on Me" by A Ha. I also referenced "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" by the lovely Cyndi Lauper and "Rock Lobster" by the ever wild B-52s. And of course, "Piano Man" by Billy Joel, which is, in fact, a classic.
> 
> When I was researching this fic, I came across a police article about a guy who stabbed a man who took his seat while he was on stage singing karaoke, and if this wasn’t Happy Steve Bingo, you know where that would have gone. I might do a side fic like that at some point.
> 
> This month has been crazy, and while I have a ton of these started, this is the only one that got done. Oh, well.
> 
> Anywho, as always, thanks so much for reading! <3
> 
> Feel free to come chat on tumblr, my user’s the same. Have a great day!


End file.
